


snapshot

by labocat



Category: Lynes and Mathey Series - Amy Griswold & Melissa Scott
Genre: M/M, Spiritualism, casefic, non-conforming magic, spirit photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:46:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: They say a photograph can steal your soul or show the spirit of a loved one. Metaphysics says that isn't possible.





	snapshot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chiiyo86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiiyo86/gifts).



Julian let the pile of photographs drop from his hands onto Ned’s desk. “Another stack of these turned up.”

“There’s more?” Ned shook his head as he set aside the photographs he was already scanning through to fan the ones Julian had brought in across his desk. “I don’t understand what would be so alluring about this spirit photography in the first place, but one would think people would be more careful with it this time of year.”

The top of the stack showed a woman being enveloped by a translucent figure growing steadily more opaque towards its top. Most of the rest were similar, only differentiated by the change of subject. Human, that is. The “spirit” was the same in every one, its position changing only slightly across the images.

“As I understand it, the allure of this supposed to be that it’s a way to see loved ones again.” Julian picked up one out of the stack at random, then another, comparing them. “You would think someone would have realized their “spirit” was the same as everyone else who’d gone to this studio.”

“Hold on, let me see that one.” Julian handed over the photograph he’d been comparing to Ned, who took it with a frown, then tapped it after a pause. “I’d have to check with Hatton, but I’d all but swear this one’s the John Doe the ‘Phys got in last week.”

Immediately, Julian was over to Ned’s side of the desk, leaning over his shoulder. “The one with the enchantment that absorbed every test you tried?”

“The very same. Your client said her husband complained of exhaustion before he disappeared?”

“Indeed.”

“Do you have his photograph?”

Julian instantly started rifling through the piles of photographs. “Here.” He all but thrust the paper at Ned, who laid them both out side by side.

“Same as the others, as far as I can tell. Obviously the same studio, same spirit, but—”

“There.” Julian stabbed a finger down at one photograph, then the next. “And there. Do you see it?”

Ned leaned in, then back again. “It’s...the same spirit?”

“Yes, but the same spirit who happens to be in a faintly different position. See this blur that looks like an arm?”

“...It’s slightly higher in the John Doe photograph.” Ned turned to him quizzically. “What are you on about, Lynes?”

“When did your John Doe show up?”

“Wednesday last, and your client’s husband?”

“Disappeared Monday, a couple days after his appointment, according to his wife.” Julian was already rifling through the stack of photographs again, arranging one here, one there. Eventually, a pattern began to form, and Ned grabbed another stack to help.

They both stood back, looking at the row of events they’d laid out. What had seemed at first to be slight movements of the “spirit”, masked by the changing position of the human subjects now appeared to be the figure raising one appendage slowly, all but covering a person’s face by the end of the row.

All of the breath left Julian’s lungs in a rush as he turned to look at Ned. He was still staring at the photographs, lips moving silently as his eyes scanned back and forth. The familiar sight of Ned’s mind working through a problem warmed him, to the point that he could even feel himself smiling wryly.

“I take it we have a photographer to visit?” Julian asked. His eyes darted to the clock, then to the window, where the light was already starting to dim, then back to Ned’s face.

Ned’s eyes flicked to the open door, then back to Julian. “Afraid so, old man,” he settled for, clapping one hand to Julian’s shoulder as he started towards the coat rack. “Afraid so.”

* * *

 

The photographer’s studio was shuttered when they arrived, and even a long moment spent with Ned and his polite knock follow by Julian’s more demanding one revealed nothing. The sun was sinking lower below the horizon, and the streets were filling with more and more activity — lamps being lit in expectation of Halloween processions that night, and laughing groups of adults weaving their way to parties, or, from the look of some of them, cemeteries. No one spared Ned or Julian a second glance, but Ned still stood at an angle to shield Julian from view of the street as he motioned to the lock with a small grimace. “All yours.”

Julian flashed him a grin as he pulled out his toolkit, sketching a quick symbol to determine what alarms, if any, had been placed on the lock. He glanced up at Ned’s resolutely-turned back as he selected a pick and got to work. The lock was simple, both in its charm and tumbler, and a foolish part of him wished that it had involved a bit more work even though he knew it wasn’t the kind of skill that Ned appreciated. He dusted off his knees discreetly as he rose, waiting for a moment before engaging the latch and opening the door, tugging Ned in after him.

The entrance room they found themselves in was dark and remained so, even as Ned wrote out a symbol for light. There were lamps in sconces in the wall, as well as candles, but none of them took the spell, simple and reliable as it was.

“Just like the diagnostic spells,” Ned muttered, moving forward to brush a gloved hand over one of the sconces to investigate it. “It seems to be absorbing the intent and energy in the symbol before it can manifest as it should.”

“So on the right track, then.” Julian didn’t consider himself at all superstitious, but the image of the “spirit”, moving in the photographs as if it had a purpose, still flickered across his mind. There had to be a metaphysical explanation for it, and if there was, Ned would find it. The touch of a hand to his own jolted him out of his thoughts and made him start, but upon realizing Ned had merely moved to his side, he made himself drop his shoulders and squeeze Ned’s hand back.

The candles on the desk—likely a reception desk by the presence of an appointment book and stacks of papers—at least yielded light when matches were struck. The light seemed inadequate in the face of all of the shadows, however, made worse in the next room, which turned out to be what looked like a storage area for a number of props. Furniture, bolts of cloth, fake plants, plaster columns, and what looked like a number of pieces that would have not been out of place at the opera were crammed in so tightly that the light went no further than a couple of items at a time.

The next room was the developing room by the smell of it and the sinks along one wall, but the room across the hall from it looked altogether too familiar. The pattern on the draped curtain was instantly recognizable, even though the photos had not revealed its lurid shade of green, nor the carpet in front of it, one corner starting to curl up.

“Is that chalk? Mathey, help me roll this back.” Ned was over in an instant, setting the candle down to help Julian fold, then roll, the carpet back, revealing dark wood and a number of circles inscribed upon it in chalk.

Ned sat back on his heels, eyes tracing the symbols crammed between them. “The grammar is all over the place, but it keeps coming back to a square of Pluto and different words for _essence_.”

“Could it have caused your John Doe’s death? Or that figure in the photos?”

“Not on its own, although...they have _leech_ where the original form should be _transfer_.”

“Non-conforming?”

“Certainly not contained, at least. It looks much the same as if they had started with a transfer of energy enchantment to animate automatons and tried to apply it to human beings.” Ned was still leaning close into the circle, examining the symbols and their locations, but Julian had recoiled sharply.

“And what would that likely have done?”

“In its original form, not much, though there is a symbol here that seems to have been drawn and re-drawn a number of times. It’s where the modifier for the recipient of the energy would have gone, and it seems to be— Dear God.” Now Ned was recoiling as well, and as much as Julian didn’t want to, he forced himself to ask.

“What?”

“It appears as if they’ve added a multiplier to the modifier for the amount of energy.”

Julian’s stomach sank even lower. “They were trying to animate something using the energy of the people who came in to have their portraits taken?”

Ned nodded. “And when it didn’t seem to be happening quickly enough, increased the amount of energy taken each time. It also explains why the body of the John Doe and the sconces in the reception room absorb the energy of the spells. It must still be connected.”

“So the question is, what was he trying to animate, and why did it have to be by tonight?”

Another nod, slower this time. “And...where is the photographer?”

They both rose, slowly, and Julian had a creeping awareness of the light from the candle dimming with each minute. Ned had moved over to the desk, assorted papers and notes spread haphazardly across the surface, moving the candle closer to study the framed photograph that sat on the corner, the lone decoration on it. “Look at this.”

Julian moved over to examine it. The photo revealed a woman seated in a chair, hands folded on her lap and expression blank as she stared slightly to the left of the camera. The man behind her had one hand on her shoulder, and was tall and thin, pale to a degree that startled even Julian, who was used to the artistic sets who still found the aesthetics of the white plague appealing. “I assume this is the photographer?”

Ned nodded. “And his late wife.”

“How do you know that—,” Julian broke off, studying the image more closely. The sitting pose, the blank stare, of course, neither of which were uncommon in photographs due to their long exposure time, but something in the woman’s gaze felt off, as did the way the man’s hand on her shoulder seemed to be holding her upright as much as it was a common pose. “That idiot.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ve heard of people’s objections to having their portrait taken because of some rot about it capturing their souls, compounded by the damn spiritualist movement and these photos, but for a photographer to believe it, when he knows the work behind it…”

Ned had moved the candle away, looking at the other items on the desk. “People do a number of nonsensical things in the name of grief. You likely know this better than I do.”

He did. “Still.” Julian set down the photograph with a sigh, moving to the other side of the desk. “I imagine we’ll need to dispel it.” He looked up sharply at Ned, a thought forming in his mind. “You don’t think he actually…”

“No.” Julian breathed a sigh of relief at that, then felt foolish for doing so. “I think somehow the enchantment was able to form an abstract container for the energy he was siphoning, forming the “spirit” in the photographs, but I very much doubt he managed to actually summon up the concept of a soul, much less his dead wife’s.”

“Of course not,” Julian said faintly, though he was still relieved when Ned came closer and he felt the press of Ned’s hand in his.

“Let’s get this done with quickly. I don’t much like it here either.”

Together, they moved the carpet out of the way entirely and found a number of other candles in a candelabra in the prop room to set up around the circle.

“I don’t like that we haven’t run into the photographer or any trace of him.”

“Neither do it, but we can only hope he’s off elsewhere. Perhaps at his wife’s grave. There. That should do it.” Ned took a step back, handing a small pot of charcoal to Julian. “Mostly the energy needs to be grounded, released back into the world. I can only hope the enchantment is still close enough to its original form for this to work.”

Julian had his own wand out, sketching quick symbols at Ned’s call and watching him add a third symbol to the string that currently read _disperse excess_ when the door slammed open.

Julian turned sharply to see the photographer standing there, a stricken wild look across his face. Ned hadn’t turned, eyes trained on the symbols in front of him, trusting Julian to have his back. “What are you doing? Get away from her!” The photographer’s voice was raspier than Julian expected, the words sounding as if they had been torn from his throat.

“You can’t do that, she’s almost through! Let her through!” He threw himself at Julian, who knew a brief wish he had Ned’s physique. Even though the photographer was frail, desperation lent him strength and he clawed at Julian, who was using every dirty trick he had ever learnt at both school and in his line of work to no avail. The man responded to nothing, but Julian couldn’t let Ned’s work be interrupted. He bore them both to the ground, the photographer writhing and bucking underneath him as they grappled, but Julian had determination on his side as well. If dispelling the enchantment was interrupted, the amount of energy they were currently dealing with was likely to backfire horribly on Ned, and Julian was not about to let that happen. He rolled them on the ground, twisting to get his body behind the man while his arm remained in front, wrapped around his neck. “Unless you wish to join her in death, I suggest you stop struggling, _now_.”

The man wailed, a sound which seemed to be picked up by a rush of wind in the room, though no windows were open. “If she cannot join me here, it will be far kinder to send me to her! You devils, you have ruined everything!”

“One man is dead, possibly two, and if you do not wish to be tried for worse, you _will_ stop.”

If possible, the man writhed harder, making it harder for Julian to keep his arm around the man’s neck without injuring him. “No! It’s not possible, Lucy would never harm anyone!” He started sobbing wildly. “She’d never! We only wanted to be together again…” Without warning, he slumped forward, all the fight leaving him as he started sobbing softly. Julian bent with him, keeping him trapped in case this was a trick.

“Alright back there?” Ned called, and Julian could see the string of symbols, longer now, almost done.

“Quite the party you’re missing! I’ll tell you all about it once you’ve finished up.” It was a struggle to affect a teasing tone when one was out of breath and still holding a man in a headlock, Julian found.

Thankfully, all seemed to be well after that, or if it wasn’t, Ned gave no sign of it, simply sketching symbol after symbol, then pausing to imbue them with intent. Julian’s free hand groped for his wand, just in case, but after a harrowing moment, the line sank into the sigils on the floor. A rush of wind blew through the room, scattering all the papers on the table and knocking Ned back a step, but other than that, there seemed to be no ill effects.

Other than the man still sobbing in Julian’s arms, that was.

They had set him on his feet, and when no threats or cajoling had seemed to work to stop his sobs or babbling, had crammed him in between them in a cab to turn up at the Yard. A quick word brought out Hatton, who took him into custody once they’d explained the connection with the John Doe.

“Well done, Mr. Mathey, Mr. Lynes. You’ll likely need to come in for questioning later, but if the sigils are still on his floor, between those and his confessions it should be easy enough to close. Go home and get some rest.” Only a slight blink betrayed that Hatton thought they might do something other than rest; it had been a hard-won truce of tiptoeing around subjects and one another for some time, and neither Ned nor Julian were willing to tip the balance by acknowledging it.

By mutual agreement, they went to Julian’s rooms, it being past 8 and Mrs. Digby being out. Ned sank onto the end of the sofa with a sigh, batting away the attentions of the _urtica mordax_ as Julian poured them both a drink.

“To All Hallow’s Eve and the hope that no more jobs come of it.”

Ned returned the toast with a clink of his glass and knocked most of it back in one gulp. “To no more energy transfer spells for a while. It was closer than I care to admit in the middle there.”

Julian sat down on the sofa next to him, shifting position as Ned raised up his arm to drape it around Julian’s shoulders. “It made me think, though — how do you feel about having a portrait done?”

“Of us?” Ned’s cheeks had colored slightly, no doubt thinking of the types of photographs of pairs many at their clubs had done.

“Something respectable, of course, but,” Julian paused, taking a sip of his drink and letting the warmth of it sink into his bones as he contemplated his glass. “I’d like to have something of the pair of us. It would be nice.” _A reminder that it had lasted this long,_ he didn’t say, but saw the realization of it simmer in Ned’s eyes.

“Certainly.” Ned’s tone was faint, but the way he squeezed at Julian’s shoulder, tugging him closer against him told Julian all he needed to know.

“So long as we avoid anyone known for spirit photography, that is.” Julian was rewarded by a full-bodied laugh from Ned, enough that he almost pitched forward, catching himself by bracing an arm on Ned, which brought them in ever closer proximity. He leant up for a kiss, which Ned granted and he took advantage of to deepen, pressing Ned against the sofa.

“I don’t need anything to remember you by— “

“That memorable, am I?” Julian interrupted with a grin. It widened when Ned stopped his mouth with another kiss, which he gladly returned.

“Unforgettable.” The look in Ned’s eyes stopped Julian’s breath short, along with the comment he’d been about to make. Instead, he set aside his drink to cup Ned’s face in his hand. “I want to remember you always.”

“I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me.”

“Careful, Mathey, I’ll hold you to that.”

“I hope you do, Julian, I really hope you do.”


End file.
